


Faith, Trust, and a Little Pixie Dust

by someonethatsfunny



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 31dos, Costume Party, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, I'm terrible at tagging, M/M, Pining, Smut, a lot of glitter, and Niall's there, and it's in there I swear, blowjob, handjob, it just...it's there a little, my word was shadow, there's glitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 08:26:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12207486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonethatsfunny/pseuds/someonethatsfunny
Summary: Louis loves Halloween. Harry hates everything about it, but he loves Louis. And Niall loves vodka and glitter so there's that.Or the one where Harry has been pining for his best friend and roommate for years.  It takes a costume party, an Irish fairy and a sprinkle of pixie dust to give this fairytale prince his happy ending.





	Faith, Trust, and a Little Pixie Dust

_~October 26th~_

 

Harry hates Halloween. Always has.

There's a million things to dislike about it. Starting with the most obvious which is people actively trying to scare him. Honestly, what's the point of that anyway? People jumping out at you? No thanks. Loud scary noises?  Horror movies? Nope.

There are so many other holidays - _better ones_ \- to be cherished. Any other holiday really. Take Thanksgiving for example. Though he's not American, even he can appreciate a holiday that centers around family and good food. Or how about Christmas? Presents, eggnog and Michael Buble’s Christmas album on repeat? Yes please.

But Halloween? Yeah, that gets a hard pass from Harry. If it were up to him, he’d cancel it altogether.

 _Except_. Except that his best friend and roommate, Louis, absolutely _loves_ Halloween. It's an unfortunate situation. Because Louis loves Halloween. And Harry?   _Well._ Harry loves Louis. It’s really that simple. He loves him so much that his heart literally aches with it. It’s this persistent dull thrumming that sometimes keeps him awake at night. He just hasn't found a way to tell him yet.

It's scary, though. Falling ass over tits in love with your best friend is terrifying when you're not sure if they feel the same way about you.

Some days Harry wonders if Louis might want the same thing as him. When Louis looks at him a second too long or touches his arm in a way that feels more intimate than platonic. He wonders.

But mostly Harry’s unsure. Nervous, unsure and hopelessly gone for his best friend. His best friend that loves Halloween more than any other holiday, with the exception of Christmas. And the only reason that earns top spot is because his birthday happens to fall on Christmas Eve. Otherwise Halloween would surely take the cake.

Louis loves every single thing about it. The costumes. The decorations. Haunted houses. Pumpkin seeds and hayrides.  Even face painting. All of it.

He thrills at seeing all the little ones dressed up as superheroes and fairy princesses. Squeals with joy, preening over every single one of them who rings their doorbell for a treat.  He praises them until they leave feeling like they're _actual_ heroes or members of the royal parliament. It's amazing to witness even though it tugs at Harry's heart in the most painful of ways.

Then there's the candy. And fuck if that’s not even worse than watching Louis go soft over the children. Most days, Louis isn't even phased by sweets. Truth be told, he's got more of a salt tooth. But Louis would run a man down for a Kit Kat bar. It's the one exception.

So, Halloween becomes a solid excuse to imbibe, if you will. And Harry is left to suffer. Because watching Louis consume these chocolate spawns of satan is basically hell on earth.

His head tilts back on a low moan with every bite which sends blood rushing straight to Harry's cock. Occasionally Louis’ tongue darts out of his mouth to lick stray bits of chocolate from his lips. And Harry burns. Never in his entire life has he wanted to be a piece of candy so damn much. His eyes track Louis’ lips like he's been placed under a hypnotic trance. It's too much for any reasonable human to tolerate and Harry is far from immune.

He's experienced more than his fair share of awkward boners throughout the years because of moments like these. The struggle to conceal his body’s natural biological response is real. Last year he’d lost count of the number of times he had to run to his room to quickly jack himself off to relieve the built up pressure. Which is just one of the many reasons why he’s dreading this upcoming weekend. It’s practically a foregone conclusion that this year will be no different.

Halloween falls on a Friday this year, but Louis didn’t want to miss handing out candy to the children so the two of them agreed to throw a party at their flat on Saturday instead. A costume party. Harry thinks that he’s probably going to die. Actually, scratch that. Death is imminent.  Because he happens to know what Louis’ costume is. And, yeah, there’s really no _probably_.  Harry is screwed.

 

_~October 31~_

 

Halloween night proves to be every bit as difficult as Harry expected it to be. He watches fondly as Louis easily wins over the hearts of every child that crosses their threshold. Each time that Louis’ eyes crinkle up with happiness Harry feels his own heart painfully constricting.   _Marry me_ Harry thinks. _We’ll have ten babies, a dog, a cat and maybe even a turtle._ _Marry me because I’m so stupidly in love with you that I’m terrified I’ll never be able to love anyone as much as you. Marry me and I promise I’ll take such good care of you. Just...please marry me._

Naturally, he says none of these things. Just stares longingly at his friend, trying not melt into an actual puddle of goo in their front hallway. Desperately willing himself not to be too obvious lest he scare Louis away. Because as much as Harry loves him, and as scared as he is that Louis might never return his feelings, he’s the most terrified of losing him as a friend. That would be unbearable.  

So Harry plasters on a superficial smile, determined to make it through this dreadful holiday. He finds that it really isn’t as hard as he thought because the children are actually quite adorable. So at least there's that.  

When the time comes, he grits his teeth, hands clenched tightly into fists by his side as Louis unwraps his first Kit Kat bar of the night.  Because despite thinking himself ready for what inevitably came next, it turns out that he wasn't prepared at all. Not even a little bit.

Louis looks straight at him and winks, his eyes lit up with laughter. And Harry has to suck in multiple deep breaths in an attempt to remain upright. He looks away when Louis shoves the entire bar in his mouth, his cheeks hollowed out around the candy. It's not fair. Harry groans internally, making a mental note to hide the rest of the bag. He can't go through this again. He can't. Jealousy over food is a new low, even for him.

With a resigned sigh he feigns a headache and races back to his room, slamming his back against his door as it closes. It feels wrong to get off on images of his best friend deepthroating a candy bar, but that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

Scenes flash rapidly behind his closed eyelids as his blood races south.  

_Louis._

_Louis’ mouth wrapped around his cock._

_Louis’ tongue suckling at the tip and then dipping into his slit to taste him._

_Louis’ hollowed cheeks as he slides his lips down his length, maddening slow. Louis’ hooded eyes peering up at him through dark endless eyelashes which fan out delicately against his sharp cheekbones. Louis blinking at Harry innocently, his wet pink lips stretched obscenely around him. Not the least bit innocent, in fact._

His mind is a nonstop litany of _Louis Louis Louis._ Desire rips through him like wild fire and he feels himself shaking, the vibrations ricocheting off of his door. _You're all I want. Please. Please, I'll give you everything._

Not even a full minute goes by before Harry is spilling all over his hand, warm and sticky. He gasps for air as he sinks to the floor, sliding boneless down the wall, his back still pressed against his door.  Embarrassing. He's an embarrassment. _Fucking Halloween_ Harry thinks.   _Halloween can choke and so can Kit Kat bars._

 

_~November 1~_

 

“Ugh. Nialler,” Harry whines to his friend pitifully.  “I can’t go out there!”  Their friends will be arriving soon and Harry is lying like a starfish across his bed, pouting like a petulant toddler.

“Excuse me, but who’s the one sprinkled with glitter? Is that you or is that me?”  Niall narrows his eyes at him pointedly.  “That’s what I thought, mate. So stop your crying.”

Niall had come early to help them set up. He claimed it was because he needed help with his costume, but Harry's pretty sure that he came to spike the punch. The punch that already contains a full bottle of vodka, amongst other things. It's not like Harry can protest Niall’s conquest, though because he's pretty sure he’ll need some strong drinks to take the edge off tonight.  

“Are you gonna get ready or lay there moping all night?” Niall asks him.

“Lay here,” Harry grunts back without moving.

“You know, you could just tell him.”

Harry rolls over, presses his face into his pillow and mumbles back, “I can’t.”

“You can.  I’m telling you, Harry.  You should.  This is getting out of hand.  Plus, I’m ninety-nine percent sure that it’s mutual, so.”

Turning his head towards his friend, he frowns deeply, “What about the other one percent, Ni?  That’s what I’m worried about. What if he stops talking to me?  Or worse...what if he hates me for feeling this way?  What would I do then?” He doesn’t even stop for an answer before continuing, “I’d die, that’s what.”

“Fucks sake, H! He’s not gonna hate you! Swear to god, I’m friends with the world’s two biggest and most dramatic hoes.  It’s unreal. You both need to get your shit together,” Niall points his finger authoritatively and directly in Harry’s face, so Harry does the obvious. He bites it.  

“OWWWW. Arsehole!” Niall grabs his hand back, traumatized. “Cut the shit! And help me put my wings on. Fucks sake, I need a shot.”

Harry drags himself off the bed and leans down to press a tiny kiss to Niall’s fingertip. “Sorry,” he mumbles as he fastens the wings to Niall’s back securely.

“Yea, well, ya should be. Now quit being emo and the put the costume on.” Niall heads towards the door, yanks it open and marches out to their living room **,** presumably in pursuit of alcohol.  Before he turns the corner he spins back around and shakes his pouch at Harry. “Don’t make me use this on ya. Cuz I will.”

And then he’s gone, leaving Harry to mope on his own. Which he does spectacularly if he does say so himself.

 

~~~~~

 

Harry doesn’t put it on. It’s his flat and he’ll break the rules for his own costume party if he wants to, thank you very much. Instead he strolls out into their living room in his favorite pair of ripped black skinnies and a black sweater to match. Because, why not? Black’s a certified Halloween color after all. Plus, Niall called him emo already, so.

Harry’s eyes sweep across their flat. The lights are all switched off.   In their place Louis has lit various sized candles all around the space and they’re burning brightly, casting long dark shadows along their walls. Louis has really gone all out with the decorations this year.   

Harry can see from here that he’s also replaced the regular lightbulbs in the kitchen with black lights which are creating a moody glow over their makeshift bar setup. There’s fake cobwebs hanging in every corner complete with huge freaky looking plastic spiders and streamers strewn haphazardly all about their flat.  

It probably would've looked even better if Harry had managed to pull his head out of his own ass for long enough to help him, but he’d been too busy lamenting his unlucky situation. The one where he’s in love with his best friend, is desperate to have his babies, but seriously doubts that he’ll ever have the guts to tell him. Fuck.  Niall was right. He _is_ a moody bastard. At least he made the punch, though, speaking of which…

Harry strolls over to the bowl to spoon out a cup for himself, stopping along the way to admire the cupcakes that he’d baked.  They're half arsed because he'd put precisely none of the love that he usually put into his baked goods, but Harry reckons they'll do fine anyway. They’re decorated to look like pumpkins, each one adorned with a Kit Kat for a stem.  And _he knows_. He _knew_ when he added them that it had been a mistake. He’d honestly had every intention to dispose of the offending chocolate, but Louis loves those damn chocolate bars.  And Harry is apparently a masochist. So there’s that as well.

 _At least there’s strong punch_ Harry thinks as he takes his first sip before promptly starting to choke, sputtering the red liquid everywhere. His windpipe is blocked and he thinks his vision might be starting to black out around the edges. Harry cannot breathe.

Because _tights_. Louis is wearing tights. Of course Harry knew that he was dressing as Peter Pan, but knowing this and actually _seeing_ Louis in tight green tights are two very different things. Harry’s eyes water as he continues to choke on the punch (which Harry can now confirm that Niall added more liquor to) until Louis finally looks up and notices him.

Within seconds he’s flitting across the room towards Harry. It almost looks as if he’s flying. Harry watches hopelessly, his eyes flickering between Louis and his shadow that’s chasing after him along the wall. The likeness between actual Peter Pan and Louis himself is uncanny, but Harry can’t spare too much time thinking about that now because he’s still choking. And it only intensifies when he realizes that he can see the entire outline of Louis’ dick in those tights.   _Everything_.  It's all just. _Right there._

“Alright Haz?” Louis asks him earnestly as he slaps him on the back, attempting to knock his breathing back into place.

“Fine,” Harry chokes out, coughing a few more times before finally regaining a small semblance of composure. But only just slightly. Louis is standing right beside him in tights, after all. And Jesus Christ help him because Harry is not strong enough for this. Louis’ thighs are an absolute masterpiece encased in thin green nylon, not to mention the rest of him that’s currently on full display. There’s no way that Harry will survive the night. He’s one hundred percent sure of that now.

“Why aren’t you wearing your nightie, Wendy?” Louis asks him with his lip jutted out. Which is adorable, but also terrible because now Harry can’t think of anything other than how much he’d love to bite it. To take Louis’ lip in between his teeth, sucking at it to taste the red punch that’s staining them raspberry sweet.  God, how he’d love to kiss him, to fuck his tongue into his mouth so that he could learn all of his flavors.  

Obviously he can’t do this, though. Instead, he reaches his hand up to Louis’ lips, releases them from his teeth and then shrugs his shoulders. “Didn’t feel like it.”  Belatedly, he ponders the fact that touching Louis like that doesn’t come across as strictly platonic. But there’s nothing he can do about it now so he takes a healthy gulp of his punch instead. This time he manages to swallow it without choking, although it burns as it’s going down. _Thanks Niall._

“Oh,” Louis accepts his explanation, sounding dejected.  And just like that Harry feels terrible. It’s clear that he’s let Louis down and that’s not something that Harry ever intended to do.  

Determined to make things right, Harry spins on his heels heading straight to his room. It looks like he's going to be Wendy tonight after all. God he hates this holiday.

 

~~~~~

 

Harry has had three cups of very strong punch and precisely nothing to eat since lunch earlier that day. Suffice to say, he’s well on his way to being drunk. And it’s not the happy kind of drunk that makes him want to break into song or proclaim his love for everyone within a ten foot radius.  It’s the moody kind that has him thinking dark thoughts such as _I’m going to die alone, tragically in love with my best friend._ Speaking of, Harry hasn’t been able to tear his eyes away from Louis all night.

It's not like he has a choice, what with Louis looking like _that_ wearing _those_ tights. His body is poetry in motion in baggy joggers and a t-shirt. So tonight, in this costume, his body is simply exquisite. Harry's watches in awe as the muscles in his thighs flex with every step he takes. Like a magnet pulling them there, his eyes keep skirting down to Louis’ cock. He’s unable to look away.

The more he watches him, though, the more frustrated Harry becomes. He's been snapping at everyone, but most notably Niall. The thing is that Niall and Louis have gotten really into their characters of Peter Pan and Tinkerbell. All night long Niall’s been trailing after Louis.  Everywhere they wander, he sprinkles pixie dust generously along the way. It’s going to be an absolute bitch to clean their flat the next day, but Harry has bigger things to worry about at the moment. Like getting another drink. And finding a chair in the dark corner to sink down into.

With his hands clenched in fists by his side, Harry watches as Niall and Louis dance all around the room, their shadows chasing them gleefully along the walls. Their happy laughter carries across the room as they chat up all the guests, Niall continuing to sprinkle handfuls of glitter on each person they pass. They're half drunk too, but unlike Harry who's sitting in the corner snarling at people, it's a charming kind of drunk.

It's wrong to feel this way about Niall of all people and he knows this, but he can't seem to stop irrational thoughts from creeping in. Especially when Niall’s leaning over to kiss Louis on the cheek or slapping his bum. _Mine_ Harry thinks. But Louis _isn't_ his and that's the crux of the problem right there.

When Louis makes a beeline for Harry with Niall hot on his trail Harry folds his arms across his chest as a shield. It occurs to him that he's doing a shitty job playing the part of Wendy despite having put on the long blue nightie. Wendy was never this nasty.

“What say you, Wendy?  Do you fancy flying away with me?”  Louis’ eyes twinkle down at him.

“M not the one with wings, Louis.”  Even to his own ears, Harry sounds like a jealous tit. Over Niall no less. He instantly despises himself when he sees Louis’ lips turn down.

Before he’s able to apologize, he’s being doused in a healthy handful of glitter as Niall laughs manically behind Louis.  “No need for wings when there’s pixie dust, mate!”  He can feel the glitter sticking in his hair and to his head. When he huffs out a frustrated breath, some of it loosens and falls down to his cheek instead.

Harry stands up, his hands balled into fists once more.  “I’ll be in my room.”  He knows it’s childish, knows he’s being ridiculous but something inside of him has snapped, and he needs to get away before he says or does something he might regret.

He’s been staring at Louis’ dick all night (his actual dick as well as the shadow of it that’s “chased” him around their flat all night).  He’s half drunk, covered in glitter and five seconds away from breaking down in tears over the unfairness of it all. If he doesn’t get the hell away from the two of them right now, he's either going to punch a fairy or profess his undying love. To his best friend.

As he spins on his heels towards his room, he notices the sad expression still lingering on Louis’ face. He cringes, disappointed in himself for not having a better handle on his feelings. _I'm better off in my room alone right now. It's for the best._

The lights are off in his room as well when he gets there. At some point Louis must've snuck in there to scatter some more candles around, dedicated to his Halloween ambiance. It's rather perfect for Harry's mood so he leaves the lights off and goes to sit on his window seat, pulling his knees up to his chest.

The room is still and quiet despite the music thumping outside his door. The only shadows that flicker against his walls now are the ones from the candles themselves. It's peaceful, leaving too much room for Harry's thoughts which are scattered all over the place.

He was almost too obvious tonight. If he had any chance of maintaining the integrity of his and Louis’ friendship he would need to find a way to control his feelings. Irrational jealousy over one of their other best friends?  Their _straight_ best friend?  Irrational. _Get it together Styles._

He sits there until he feels himself beginning to sober up. Just a little bit tipsy now and a lot regretful. He has no idea how much time has passed before there's a soft knock upon his door.

Turning his head towards the sound, it occurs to him that he can no longer hear the music behind the door. Harry wonders just how long he's been sitting here staring out his window.

“Come in.” His voice is raspy though it's barely been used tonite.

It's not surprising that it's Louis who slips inside his door. Or Peter, rather, given that he's still in that god forsaken costume. Still in those _tights_. Harry inhales a deep steadying breath of air before speaking again.

“I'm sor-”

“I'm sor-”. They both say at the same time.

“You go first,” Louis insists and Harry wishes that he had more time to think. To figure out the right words to say.

“Just. M sorry I was so moody. You didn't deserve that, Lou. I'm sorry.”

Louis is still stood by the door, his arms folded protectively across his chest. If Harry were to see only his shadow against his wall, he would've sworn that Peter Pan himself had flown into his room. Although there's one glaring difference. He can't recall the outline of Peter’s penis which is a bitch of a reality check. Once again, Harry's eyes drift towards Louis’ crotch.

“Why were you, though?” Louis asks him, sincerity ringing clear in his tone. “I don't really understand. And I may be way off base, but you almost seemed...jealous. Which…?”

Harry's breath hitches. He's been caught even though he should've expected it. He knew he'd been transparent. It was only a matter of time before Louis caught on.  Only now he doesn't know what to say, his tongue is twisted in knots. He needs to choose his words carefully or he risks ruining everything.

He can't believe a Disney favorite is going to be responsible for his actual downfall. He'd made it so far without revealing his true feelings. _Years even_. Harry needs to figure out how to speak and also remember to breath because he's currently doing neither. Instead, he's staring at Louis’ shadow willing himself not to have a full blown panic attack. He grips his knees a little bit tighter, a defensive measure.

“I was jealous.”   _What? The fuck? Is my mouth doing?_

“Jealous why? And of who?” Louis uncrosses his arms and places his hands behind his back before taking a step in Harry's direction.

“It's stupid. Forget it.” _Please please please forget it. Don't make me say it._

Louis takes another step towards him, his hands still behind his back. Harry thinks he might be holding something based upon the shadow. He reminds himself to focus. Words. Words are important he thinks. He wishes he had some. Or maybe he doesn't. This is so confusing.

“No. You were upset tonight, Harry. I'm not just going to forget it. Tell me why.”

Harry takes a deep shaky breath in before answering him. “Guess I wanted to be Tinkerbell.” _Why would I say that? I should not be allowed to speak. Ever._

He squeezes his eyes shut, thinking that maybe if he opens them again, this won't be real. They won't be having this conversation. Perhaps it will be like the entire night never happened. Their friendship never teetering dangerously on a precipitous edge.

But when he opens them again, Louis has moved even closer.  His hands are still clutched behind his back and his head is tilted to the side. He appears to be considering Harry very carefully.

Harry can't look at him anymore. So he watches his shadow instead, sees that Louis can't quite stand still. His feet are shuffling back and forth which is unlike him. Louis is usually graceful in all of his movements. He appears to be nervous and Harry worries that he's the one making Louis feel this way.

“Harry? Peter and Tinkerbell never had feelings for one another. You _know_ that, don't you?”

Harry's eyes whip back to Louis’ face, searching desperately for meaning behind those words. Because that? Sounded like? But surely that's impossible.

Louis maintains eye contact as he takes yet another step forward, closing the distance between them. He's close enough that Harry can smell him now. A mixture of vodka, chocolate and a smell uniquely Louis’ own. It's intoxicating.

“I want to give you something, Harry. Okay? Would that be okay?”

Harry can do nothing but nod, too overwhelmed. Filled with something that feels a lot like hope. And that's terrifying. Because as a rule, Harry doesn't allow himself to hope for this. Ever. The disappointment would crush him.

Louis tugs gently at Harry's hand until his palm is facing up, wide open and waiting. Harry stares at it for a second, watching as it trembles slightly, before raising his eyes to watch Louis curiously. Louis inhales deeply, pulls his other hand from behind his back and drops something small and metallic into Harry's outstretched palm.

Harry looks down at it for the briefest of moments, before his eyes begin searching Louis’ frantically. _It can't be._

“Do you know what it is?”

“It's a thimble,” Harry's voice cracks and he can feel his eyes watering.

“That's right, Haz. It's a thimble. And I _asked you_ to dress up as Wendy tonight. Are you connecting the dots yet?”

“But. I...don't. Wendy’s the one who gives Peter the thimble though?” His hands are proper shaking now and he's staring at Louis unbelieving. _It can't be._

“Oh for god's sake, Harry! You can't seriously be concerned about the integrity of the play right now?”

Louis reaches out tentatively, gently wrapping his fingers around Harry's wrist, an unanswered question still lingering in the air. Harry's hand burns where their skin touches, fingers still shaking. _Is this real?_

“Are you saying…” he trails off, too anxious to say the actual words. It's just. He's wanted this for _so_ long. Has wanted Louis for a lifetime it seems. So this feels too good to be true. It feels like he's dreaming.

“I'm saying I'd like to give you a real kiss. If that's something you might want too?” Louis is blushing, a pretty shade of pink filling his cheeks. Harry thinks he's never seen him look so beautiful.

And he sure as hell doesn't need to be asked twice. He tugs Louis down to the window seat beside him until the two of them sit facing one another, their legs folded into clumsy pretzels. Their knees are brushing, chests stretching towards one another as they both lean in slowly.

Hot breath fans over his face and Harry's heart threatens to pound straight out of his chest. He simply can't wait anymore. Cannot. Will not. So he closes the last of the distance between them, and finally _finally._ Harry captures Louis’ lips between his own.

It's soft at first. Tentative, gentle and careful. Until it's not anymore. Louis licks at the seam of his lips, asking to be let in and Harry opens for him instantly.

He allows Louis to set the pace, paranoid that he wants too much, too soon. And they've not even said the words yet. Not that he could. Not now anyway. His skin feels like it's been lit on fire.

Desire rips through him anew, a force so strong it's a separate entity of its own. The tights that had driven him out of his mind earlier have now become a barrier. They're standing in the way of caramel skin that Harry wants to touch. To lick. To bite. _Am I allowed?_

Louis reaches up, tangles his fingers in Harry's hair and pulls. Harry can feel himself thickening up under the nightie, the silky fabric pulling away from his belly. A low groan escapes from deep within without Harry's permission. Petrified that he's revealing too much too quickly, he pulls back. His eyes bolt wide open searching Louis’ face for his reaction.

Deep seas of blue stare back at him. Dark, blown out, and filled with so much promise. Louis’ breathing is labored, small puffs of air escaping his lips as his eyes reassure Harry with unspoken words. It's mutual. Louis wants him back. Harry thinks he might actually cry from relief.

“Please. Please Harry.” Louis pleads when Harry apparently takes too long.

As if he'd ever say no.

Glitter falls from Harry's hair, fluttering down in between the two of them, shimmering like sparklers against a darkened sky. _Like magic._ Harry leans forward again, biting at bubblegum pink lips, answering him, begging to be let inside.

And Louis lets him. Lets Harry lick into his sweet mouth. Lets Harry crawl into his lap, knees braced to either side of him, like he's wanted to do for a lifetime now. Lets him press countless wet kisses into his neck. Cries out when Harry bites the delicate skin behind his ear.

“ _Fuck_. Fuck Harry.” And _god_. Harry wants to. Has thought about it so many times that he’s lost count.

“You taste so good,” Harry lathes his tongue over the sore spot, soothing it. Louis arches his back which pushes their bodies more tightly together. Harry can _feel_ him now. Can feel how aroused he is. For the first time, knows he's not alone in this. Not anymore. His body instinctively presses closer still. Yearning for more. Always more.

“God Harry. Want you. Wanted this for a long time now.”

“Yeah?”

Louis huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah. So much.”

It's surreal. It feels impossible that this is happening when for so long this was all Harry dreamt about. _I want everything with you. Your kisses. Your body. Babies. A white picket fence._ But it's too soon. Full confessions can wait. For now Harry just wants to touch.

“You can have anything you want.” Harry promises him.

“Anything?” Somehow Louis’ eyes grow even darker, his voice dipping a little lower.

“God Lou. _Yes. Anything_. _Everything_.”  Harry presses his lips against Louis’ again desperately, chasing his unique taste. Wanting to drown in his flavor until he memorizes him completely. Just in case he wakes up the next day never to have this again. Still nervous that this is just a one off. That Louis might change his mind.

Louis pulls back slightly, panting words directly into Harry's lips, reluctant to break away completely. “Want your mouth.”

Harry's entire body shudders as Louis continues to detail his desires, his words dirty and perfect, filling his ears. The best words Harry’s ever heard. “Want your pretty red lips stretched around my cock. Wanna see what you look like when you come apart. Because of _me_.”

“Jesus Christ Lou. I want. _God_ , I want that too. Want you so much. Have forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Thought it was obvious.” Harry looks down at his lap, biting his lip. He sees a big wet patch on his gown where his cock has been leaking steadily.

A gentle hand caresses his cheek. “Wasn't to me, love. Now Niall on the other hand…”

Harry's eyes dart up towards Louis’ immediately. “Don't wanna talk about Niall right now,” he practically growls.

Louis tries to stifle his laugh and fails. So Harry leans down and bites one of his nipples through his costume. _Hard._ It has the desired effect, Louis’ laughter tapers off to a whimper instead.

And Harry needs to taste him again right this second or he might die. Their lips crash together once more and it's a hot, wet frenzy coupled with teeth. Clumsy and somewhat sloppy, but Harry wouldn't change a single thing about it.

They mold perfectly together, almost as if it’s meant to be. _It is,_ a voice in Harry’s head insists as he nips lightly at Louis’ lower lip, swallowing Louis’ surprised gasps of breath.

Kissing Louis is great. Amazing even. But Harry can’t help wanting more. He wants to feel skin. See if it's as soft as it looks. Wants to touch Louis everywhere, to discover the places that he’s most sensitive. As he pictures touching him, Louis hands slide underneath his nightie, trailing up Harry’s sides as he pushes the fabric up. Harry shivers with anticipation, goosebumps erupting in the path Louis’ fingers take.

“Okay?” Louis asks him which is almost comical. Because of course it is.

“Bed.” Harry is reduced to one word sentences, desire pushing him. Now that he's been granted permission, he's got a one track mind. Lucky for him, Louis seems on board with it.

Seconds later, the two of them fall onto Harry's bed half naked. More specifically, Harry's naked. Louis? Not so much. His nightie has been flung across the room somewhere, but Louis’ skin tight costume is proving a bit more difficult.

The green vest is hanging loosely off his shoulders with a nasty tear straight down the center, victim to Harry's impatience. His cap sits cockeyed on his head and his tights are stubbornly gathered around his legs mid-thigh. His cheeks are flushed dark pink and eyes blown dark blue as he gazes up at Harry bewildered.

Louis looks a right mess. Like he's gone ten rounds with Captain Hook. And honestly, there must be glitter in Harry's eyeballs. Must be. Because even this disheveled, he's the most exquisitely beautiful creature that Harry's ever seen.

“Off.” Harry demands, frantically shoving the remnants of his costume from his body until Louis is finally laid bare beneath him. Harry kneels above him, legs bracketed to either side, pausing as he contemplates where to touch him first. Overwhelmed with the fact that he's actually allowed.

Not for long though. Before his mind fully sorts through his options, Harry's hands begin to move of their own accord . He starts with a tight grip to Louis forearms, possibly just to ensure himself that this is real. Quickly, he switches to feather-light touches which tickle Louis’ sides, forcing high-pitched giggles out of him that warm Harry's soul. His palms press reverently against Louis’ lower belly and chest where he can feel his heart beating fast. For him. For them.

His hands continue to trail gentle designs over every delectable inch of Louis’ caramel skin, occasionally pressing fingers into softer spaces like his hips. He can't get enough of him and he's dangerously close to coming from just this alone.

Which no. That absolutely cannot happen. Not yet.

Louis giggles again happily when Harry discovers a sensitive spot on the inside of his thigh, but it morphs into the sexiest moan Harry's ever heard when he wraps his hand firmly around Louis’ cock a second later.

He watches as Louis throws his head back in pleasure, admiring the sharp contour of his collarbones specifically. All his tonight. And hopefully forever if he can has any say in it. Leaning down, he swipes his tongue clear across them, tasting the sweet and salt of his skin. Then he moves up higher, latching onto his neck and sucking greedily. It will probably leave a mark and secretly, he's thrilled about it.

Louis’ hips lift off the mattress automatically and it pushes his cock further into Harry's grip. Both of them groan loudly. The sounds bounce off the walls of his shadowed room filling his ears like a beautiful symphony.

And Harry wants more of this. _So_ much more. Now that he's free to want, he's like one hot steady pulse of desire that can't be tamed.

“Gonna suck you now.”

“Fuck. Yea. Yes, Haz. Please.”

Louis sounding desperate is all the confirmation that he needs. He wastes no time before leaning down to suck the head of Louis’ cock into his mouth. The pearly fluid that's gathered at the tip bursts on his tongue, a combination of salty and sweet. Drunk on the taste of him, Harry moans shamelessly around him.

Louis’ hands fly up instantly, tangling in his hair, holding Harry steady around him. He's barely restraining himself from pushing Harry down further, but somehow manages not to. His hips pop up ever so slightly, though, a reminder that Harry's not the only one about to come undone.

Suddenly Harry’s hit with the reality of this. They're naked. Together. In his bed. And he needs to _know_. Needs to ensure that this is going to happen again. There's no way he can possibly survive this being a one time thing. Because sadly, he's not gonna last. This is not going to last. He's already impossibly hard and can feel slight pressure building behind his balls.

He wraps one hand firmly around the base of Louis’ cock and his other around his own. Partially to calm himself down, but also because he just needs to ask. _Has to._

“No no. Please no,” Louis whimpers practically incoherent. His head is thrashing side to side, eyes wild.

Harry has given into Louis over the most ridiculous things through the years so there's no way he can deny him like this. His questions will have to wait. Even though the answer might kill him later, he bites his tongue, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.

Which is Louis’ cock that's throbbing angrily in his hand, slick with his spit, red and desperate for attention. He looks up at Louis’ face one more time, silently begging him with his eyes. _Don't let this be the last time. Please. I'm in love with you. I want everything with you. A lifetime of this._

Louis’ eyes are completely blown out, searching mindlessly for release. His sweaty fringe is matted flat against his head and it's so much. He's _so_ much. _Beautiful._

 _So beautiful._ Harry thinks before leaning down to take him into his mouth again. This time he swallows him all the way down in one go.

“Fuck. Fucking hell. Ahhhhh. Your mouth. Oh my god,” Louis babbles as Harry bobs his head up and down enthusiastically.

Harry twists his hand in time with his mouth, moving up Louis’ length while he keens loudly. The sound fuels him, pushes him forward. He wants this to be good for Louis. Wants it to be so good that he never wants this with anyone but Harry ever again.

Taking his other hand from where it was resting on Louis’ flat belly, he first massages Louis’ balls and then the skin right behind them. Harry thinks he might not be doing a half bad job if Louis blurting “fuck fuck fucking fuuuuuck” on loop is any indication. So he gets brave, tentatively dipping two fingers into Louis’ crack, before pressing them firmly against his hole.

Before he has time to even process what's happening, Louis shouts more expletives as he floods Harry's mouth. Louis’ cock pulsates against his lips as a steady flow of salty come shoots down his throat. And Harry takes it, sucks every last drop of it like it's going to be his last meal ever.

He's still licking the head clean when Louis pulls his hair hard enough to dislodge him. Not even five seconds later, he finds himself flat on his back with Louis’ head moving towards Harry's dick. And _yes, please god yes_. But also _no_. Because there's no way Harry can last. He almost came just from Louis’ voice while he blew him.

 _This is going to be so embarrassing_ , Harry thinks. But then his mind goes blank because Louis lips are stretched around his cock. Harry stares down at Louis as he peers up at Harry through his long eyelashes. And immediately shoots hot thick streams of come down his throat.

 _God_. He didn't even last thirty seconds so he kind of wants to die. But also his body feels like it's floating and he never wants to come down from this high. He's never come so hard or fast. Nothing has ever felt this amazing. Not even close. It may have only lasted five seconds, but those were the best five seconds of his life so far.

Eventually he does find his way back to his body. Louis is lying on top of him breathing heavily into the crook of his neck. He hopes that they can remain like this so he doesn't have to look at him. Doesn't wanna face the fact that he came mere seconds after Louis got his lips on him.

That thought makes him groan, but not in a sexy way.

“What's wrong?” Louis asks. He lifts up from him, pressing his hands flat to the mattress beside Harry's head, giving him enough leverage to peer down at Harry curiously.

Harry's hand immediately fly up to cover his eyes. If he can't see Louis then he can pretend Louis can't see him either. And then he can pretend that he's not currently dying of mortification. How the hell had he shot off that fast? God, what was he? Thirteen?

“Hey. No fair. None of that.” Louis pries Harry's hand from his eyes and threads their fingers together. He lifts them, pressing their joined hands into the mattress above their heads and then leans down to pepper small kisses all over Harry's face. It forces him to giggle, a comforting warmth spreading through him in response.

“That,” Louis kisses one of his eyelids. “Was,” he kisses the other. “So. Fucking,” lips press to the tip of his nose. “Hot.”

“Sorry I didn't last.”  Harry apologizes anyway. As he says the words, he can feel his cheeks heating up. He can't help feeling self-conscious about it.

“Are you kidding me? That's what was so hot. Christ, Harry. _I_ did that to you. _Me.”_ Louis’ looking at him like he hung the moon and suddenly Harry feels a lot less nervous. Because if Louis’ looking at him like this…

“Um. You could do it again if you want? Anytime. Like. Not right now obviously. But like. Maybe I don't know? Tomorrow? Or in ten minutes even…five probably. If you want.”

“I want.” Louis answers simply. His smile is blinding and Harry can feel his own cheeks stretched wide, surely matching his expression. He doesn't hesitate to lean up this time.

Their lips find one another again, this time pressing soft and slow, the urgency washed away in the afterglow. Harry feels like he's melting into his mattress. He can actually taste himself on Louis lips and it's heady. The fact that they did _that._ And that Louis wants to do it again. _With him._ God. It's everything he's ever dreamt.

Five minutes later, Louis wraps his hand around Harry's cock which is already half hard again. Ten minutes later Harry comes a second time from the most mind-blowing blowjob he's ever received. Fifteen minutes later, Louis paints Harry’s chest with his own come and then feeds it to him with his fingers as he swipes it off of his body.

Thirty minutes later they fall asleep kissing with the candles still glowing around them, casting shadows of the two of them together against his walls.

 

~~~~~

 

_~November 2~_

 

Their flat looks like it's been bombed with glitter, but Harry could care less because he's holding Louis’ hand. They'd woken up with their legs tangled together and immediately pressed their lips together, morning breath be damned.

But eventually nature had called, in the form of Harry's belly rumbling loudly. Given the fact that it had been almost twenty-four hours since he'd last eaten, he really needed some sustenance. And quickly.

“Come on. Let's get you fed.” Louis had stated before pulling Harry up from their comfortable place in bed to lead him towards their kitchen. That's where they stood now, taking in the ruins left behind.

Half ripped streamers are hanging from the ceiling and rainbow colored glitter covers every surface. There's upturned cups all over the counter and stains of spilled red punch on the floor.

They stare at the mess quietly for a minute before Louis belts out a loud startled laugh. Covering his mouth the hand he'd just pulled from Harry's grasp, he uses the other to point at their refrigerator as he continues giggling.

Harry's eyes follow them there where they settle upon a handmade glitter-lettered sign taped haphazardly to the door.

“FINALLY U FUCKERS! I CALL FLOWER GIRL AT YOUR WEDDING.”

The two of them hold their bellies laughing, slight shades of pink coloring their cheeks with happiness. It occurs to Harry that Louis doesn't seem the slightest bit put off at the suggestion of marriage. Perhaps he'd been worried for no reason at all.

He watches Louis fondly, mesmerized by the way his eyes twinkle back at him. The crinkled corners make it look like his eyes are smiling and Harry is so _so_ happy. And grateful for this beautiful boy. He can't believe that he's actually his. _He is_ Harry thinks.

“Well?” Louis quirks an eyebrow at him. “Should we let him?”

“Let him?” Harry repeats, confused.

“Let him be our flower girl, Haz. Keep up.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes out softly. Because Louis is only half joking right now. If Harry's not mistaken, he sounds half serious too. _Our flower girl._ Harry's belly flip flops. He's absolutely one hundred percent going to marry this boy someday. “Yeah, okay.” He agrees.

“Okay then it's settled. Hey? We should get married on Halloween.” Louis tacks on casually as if he hasn't just sent Harry's entire world spinning even further on it's axis. As if his heart hasn't taken off in a sprint, racing towards something. Maybe the altar.

“Sure. Why not?” And finds that he means it. He can hardly believe it himself, but perhaps he doesn't hate Halloween after all. In fact, it might just be his favorite new holiday.

 

_~fin_

  
  
_I want to extend a huge thank you to my wonderful friends/betas/brit picker, L and R (I will thank you properly when this is revealed).  I love you both!  Thank you for tolerating and humoring me :))  Thank you also to the lovely people who organized the 30dos.  I am honored to be a part of it <3_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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